Wood; "I can't for an instant question such distinterested testimony. His face was half hidden under a freshly pipeclayed sola topee—sun-helmet. Me—I’m nothing but a country wench, and one who went to the bad. The stairs creaked as Mark rushed down them. ‘Dieu du ciel, but answer me!’ Martha’s eyes were swimming again, and she reached out. There are times when you make me feel a little thing at your feet—a young, silly, protected thing.
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